The Return of Quidditch
by losthpfanficwriter
Summary: More stories written for the QLFC - this time for the Harpies!
1. Serious Crush (R10)

A/N: Written for the QLFC (Yes, I got roped back in after all!)  
Season 5, round 10  
Team: Holyhead Harpies  
Position: Chaser 2

Round prompt: '1980's: Bette Davis Eyes — Kim Carnes'  
Optional prompts: 1. (location) Godric's Hollow; 10, (word) luminous; 14. (word) remote

* * *

 **Serious Crush**

A quiet afternoon in the Potter's cottage at Godric's Hollow was disturbed as the front door was slammed open by one of the house's frequent guests.

"Siri! Must you be so loud? I just got Harry to bed!" Lily complained, her maternal instinct having her moving upstairs to check on her baby son before the intruder, none other than Sirius Black, even made his way fully inside.

"Hey Lils. Hey Prongs. I'm in love," Sirius said, grinning wide as he stepped over the back of a chair and sat down on it.

"Uh-huh," James remarked, not looking up from _the Daily Prophet_. "Who is it this time? Marlene McKinnon?"

"Nah, you don't know her. I think she's foreign, Irish or Welsh maybe—hey!" The 'hey' was in response to a stinging hex sent his way from the stairs, Lily never liked it when people made fun of her family's Welsh origins.

"You're lucky, Harry is still asleep. If you had woken him up I'd have neutered Padfoot," Lily said, walking over to her husband and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Try to keep this reprobate quiet, would you, love? I'll just hop over to Alice and Frank's for a bit, see how they're doing."

"You can't expect the impossible, Lils," James quipped, giving her a wave as she stepped in the fireplace and took the floo out.

"So, what's her name, Sirius?" James asked.

"Betty something or other, I forgot," Sirius said. "It didn't really come up. You'd like her, Prongs, well, the old Prongs before he got tied down would."

"I'll have you know Lily is the only one for me and always has been," James countered. "What does she look like?"

"You know those old Muggle films Lily likes? Well, Betty's like a 'best of' of those actresses. Platinum blonde hair, huge dark eyes, the perfect figure, and best of all, she really likes flirting back."

"Congrats," James said as he stood up and walked to the kitchen to get two butterbeers, then tossed one through the open door. "Here, catch." Sirius did, then twisted open the cap, only to get sprayed by foam as the bottle sizzled.

"You—Stop laughing, Prongs!" Sirius complained, whipping out his wand to dry himself. "Was that necessary?"

"Sounded like you needed a cold shower," James quipped, sitting down at the table again. "So, how did you and this Betty meet?"

"I was supposed to meet up with Wormtail, you know, to see if he's heard anything from Moony, but Peter bailed on me. Something with how his mum was sick again."

"Poor guy, he's really worried," James cut in. "He missed the last two Order meetings over that, too."

"Can't say I really understand. If my bitch of a mother was taken ill, I'd have a party."

"We can't all grow up in dysfunctional families like yours, Padfoot," James said in a dry voice.

"Anyway, so I suddenly found myself in a seedy bar in Knockturn Alley with a lot of free time and there she was, taking the barstool next to mine and asking me to buy her a drink."

"Which of course you did?"

"Of course! You know I'm a gentleman, Prongs."

James decided to sip his drink in lieu of answering.

"She was a pro at flirting, I'll tell you that. Nearly got me to blush, too!" Sirius continued. "Of course, I turned it around on her. Tried to, at least."

"Anything for the remote chance of getting another notch on your bedpost, eh?"

"Ah come on, Prongs, it's not like that. Don't be jealous just because the girls love a bad boy!"

"As long as you stay away from my Lily Flower, we're good," James said. "I take it you managed to take her home, though?"

"You bet," Sirius said, grinning. "Have to work for it though. She wanted to know what I did for a living, so I told her a bit about fighting the Dark Wanker and his crowd of sycophants. She was very impressed by my curse scar."

"What curse scar?" James raised an eyebrow. To the best of his knowledge Sirius had been very lucky so far, getting away unscathed from all the fights.

"The one on my left leg, you know, that jagged line."

"The one you got from Dora Allister in your sixth year when she caught you kissing her sister behind her back?"

"Yup, that one. A curse scar is a curse scar."

"Only you," James said, shaking his head.

"Enough about my fabulous nights though, how's life behind the Fidelius treating you?"

"Well, let me tell you about Harry's accidental magic and—"

The two friends trailed off in discussion.

x-x-x

A week later, Sirius once again visited the cottage. "I'm in love, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes. "Betty? Or have you moved on to the next model?"

"Betty of course," Sirius said. "I'm not that fickle!"

"Since when are you not?" Lily asked, walking in while carrying Harry. "Look, Harry, it's your no-good uncle Padfoot!"

"How's my little godson?" Sirius asked, reaching out to take him from Lily.

"So, Bets and I have been on another date," he said a while later, with Harry cradled on his lap and playing with his long dark locks.

"Uh-huh. So, are you and she serious?" Lily asked.

"I'm always Sirius, Lily!"

Lily let out a groan. "I can't believe I set you up like that. Do you never get tired of that pun?"

"Nah, I'll use it until I'm dead. Dead serious—oi! Watch it with the stinging jinxes, I have a baby on my lap!"

"I trust in your ability to shield your godson," Lily said, smirking as she put her wand away again. "I'm a bit worried about this Betty, though. Are you sure she's not a spy for You-Know-Who?"

"Not that again," Sirius complained. "You need to learn to trust people, Lils."

"What a luminous idea! Why don't we ask Dumbledore to remove the Fidelius and take out an advertisement in _the Daily Prophet_ that we're living here, too?"

"Honey, calm down. Padfoot has a point," James said, putting his arm on Lily's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, it's just, being trapped in here all day is getting to me a bit," Lily said after a moment. "Glad to hear you're happy, Siri, just, stay safe, okay? They might still go after you even if Betty is who she says she is."

"At the least I'm sure she doesn't have the Dark Mark anywhere on her body, if you know what I mean," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Do grow up," Lily countered, but her eyes betrayed her amusement.

x-x-x

"Don't tell me, you're in love," James said, not looking up as Sirius entered their home another week later.

"I'm not. Betty and I are no longer together," Sirius said. James looked up from his newspaper and saw his friend looked very sad.

"Take a seat, Pad," James said as he stood up and walked to the cabinet where he kept his firewhisky. He poured them both a glass, putting one of them at the table in front of his best friend.

"Bottom's up," Sirius said, downing his in one gulp. A moment later he let out a burp accompanied by a small flame. "Merlin, that hits the spot!"

James refilled Sirius' glass and topped off his own, then sat down. "So, what happened with you and Betty?"

"Bitch dumped me," Sirius said. "She flat out told me she wanted more gifts and when I said I'm not just a walking Gringotts account, she threw her wine in my face and walked off. Saw her last night draped all over Barty Crouch Jr.'s arm."

"Ouch, sorry to hear it mate. You seemed so happy together."

"You know what they say, Prongs. Sometimes you're the hunter—"

"Sometimes you're the prey," James completed it. "Well… if it cheers you up, I heard Marlene McKinnon is currently single again. I could throw out a little fishing line, or maybe ask Alice to invite her and you over for dinner one night?"

Sirius grinned, slapping his friend on the arm. "Appreciate it, mate. Although she won't have Betty's eyes."


	2. The Loss (R11)

A/N: Written for the QLFC

Season 5, round 11

Team: Holyhead Harpies

CHASER 2: Write about a death on a spring day(s) OR a birth on a winter night(s).

Optional prompts: 4. (song) I Hold On - Dierks Bentley; 6. (sound) sobbing; 13. (phrase) walking down the road

* * *

 **The Loss**

Winter lasted long this year. It was already well into May, but the cold wind was unrelenting. Harry Potter woke up cold and stiff, his joints hurting. He fumbled for his glasses on the night table and put them on, then realized a window had blown open some time during the night or early morning. He waved his hand at it and the window flew closed, keeping out the cold. Letting out a relieved sigh, Harry turned to give his wife a kiss… but she wasn't responding. She just lay there, unmoving, her eyes still closed but her mouth open somewhat. Harry noticed she was cold to the touch and worse, she wasn't breathing.

"What happened, Healer?" Hermione asked. Harry had been in shock, understandable really, so it had been the Potter's House Elf who had _popped_ over to Ron and Hermione's to ask them to help 'Master Harry'. Soft sobbing could be heard from the kitchen, where Ron sat with Harry, keeping him company. Hermione had offered to deal with _the body_.

"A natural death, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," the Healer said. "All signs point to old age."

"That is ridiculous," Hermione protested. "She is… was… a year younger than I am."

"And yet, her systems all shut down naturally. Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I took a look at her medical records before I came here. Were you aware the late Mrs. Potter had suffered from possession by a soul leech in her youth?"

"Of course, the whole Slytherin's Heir business..." Hermione let out a gasp. "You don't mean—"

"That is my best guess. Her life force, if you will—or you might also call it her inherent magic—was severely drained. It would seem Mrs. Potter just ran out."

In the end it was having to tell their children that brought Harry back from shock, he didn't want to let that responsibility fall to his friends. Fortunately, relatively speaking, all three were old enough to understand death now… James was graduated and married, Albus was also out of school, and 'baby' Lily Luna was in her N.E.W.T. year. The four remaining Potters found solace with each other and with the extended Weasley clan, as well as friends. Gradually life went on, just without the vivid energy of Ginny Potter.

x-x-x

To an outside onlooker, nothing seemed to change for Harry. He still slept in the same bed, still woke up occasionally from the cold… still missed his wife. He had learned to adapt, that was all. Having his career in the Auror corps and being in regular contact with his family helped. Still, it didn't make waking up alone any easier, especially not on May mornings that reminded him of that horrible one where he had become a widower at a young age.

"Morning, Jippy," Harry greeted his House Elf once he came down to the kitchen. Kreacher had finally died of old age a few years ago, but in his last days he had suddenly turned up with Jippy, a young Elf that reminded Harry somewhat of Dobby in how excited he could be. "Kreacher's replacement," the old Elf had said, clear that was all the information Harry needed. Not two weeks later Kreacher had not been there in the morning and Jippy informed Master Harry that the old Elf had gone to his final rest. Harry and Ginny had buried him in the back yard of their home, next to where they had buried the stuffed House Elf heads that had once hung over the stairs, so Kreacher could be with his ancestors.

"Jippy be having Master Harry's breakfast ready," the Elf said, snapping his fingers. A breakfast tray hovered over to the kitchen table and Harry sat down in his favourite chair. _The Daily Prophet_ was already lying there as well and he opened it to check the latest news… or gossip.

When he finished reading the newspaper Jippy had already cleaned up the remains of his breakfast and was holding out Harry's coat for him.

"Master James is expecting Master Harry this morning, will Master Harry be taking the floo?"

Harry shook his head. Floos and he still did not mix.

"I'll apparate and walk, Jippy. It's not that far."

"Master have a good day," Jippy said, bowing.

Harry put on his jacket and took an old scarf from a pocket, tying it around his neck. With an almost inaudible popping sound he disappeared from his kitchen and re-appeared just outside of the village of Godric's Hollow. He took a moment to reorientate himself, noticing the war monument—and the restored Potter cottage where James and his wife now lived—were to his right… and the church was to his left. Harry hesitated for a moment, then went left.

Walking down the road towards the old church he felt the cold wind chill his bones and he ducked his head down a bit into the old scarf. It didn't help that much, but it was better than nothing. A couple of minutes later he walked past the church's closed doors and onto the graveyard grounds. Harry passed by the now familiar graves of long dead families, Muggle and wizard, smiling a bit when he recognised the grave of Ariana and Kendra Dumbledore. Someone had recently cleaned the gravestone up a bit. He knew that if he took the path left from here he'd find the old Peverell grave, but that wasn't what he came here for. Straight ahead were the graves of James, Lily, and Ginny Potter.

"Hey, Gin," Harry said, standing in front of his wife's resting place. "I miss you, so much. We had all these plans… by now you'd be ready to retire from Quidditch, and I'd take a long sabbatical from the Aurors so we could visit the world. A month or two touring the Americas, a couple of weeks in Asia, maybe visit Hermione's parents and siblings in Australia..." his voice trailed off as he felt his eyes tear up.

x-x-x

"Dad? Why are you standing here in the rain?" a voice startled Harry. He turned around to see his son, James Sirius, walking up to him and holding an umbrella.

"Oh… I didn't notice it started raining," Harry said, taking off his glasses and wiping his face. He hoped James didn't notice the tears.

"I just had to say 'hi' to Gin before I walked over."

James rushed over, handing the umbrella to his father. "Come, Dad, you're shivering. Here, let me at least cast a warming charm over you."

Harry sighed as the spell warmed him up. "I should've thought of that."

"Yes, you should've. You also should get a better scarf. That thing looks like it's older than Professor Marchbanks," James quipped as they started walking towards his home.

"I wouldn't trade this one for one made of acromantula silk and hand-woven by Goblin maidens," Harry countered, pulling the scarf closer. "Your mother made it for me while she was pregnant with you."

James was silent for a moment, before he apologized.

"It's okay, son," Harry said, patting him on the back. "I miss her, too."


	3. Repent (R13)

A/N: Written for the QLFC  
Season 5, round 13  
Team: Holyhead Harpies

CHASER 2: Bishop: Write about a 'dark' character acting moral.

Optional prompts: 3 (word) freedom / 9 (dialogue) "If I had a Knut for every time I heard that—" / "—You'd still be poor." / 12 (word) desire

* * *

 _Repent_

Regulus Black stood in front of his mirror and looked at his reflection. He scowled at what he saw.

"Spoiled brat," he muttered to himself. "What ever happened to 'Blacks lead, others follow?'"

He moved his right sleeve upwards, revealing part of the black tattoo the Dark Lord had branded him with—he had _let_ the Dark Lord brand him with.

"No way back now, Reggie," he said, pushing the sleeve down again. Regulus sighed, he had made his choice and now he had to live with the consequences. He was late for a revelry.

x-x-x

"Cousin! Isn't this exciting?" Regulus' cousin Bellatrix yelled as the troupe of Death Eaters ran through the streets of a small English neighbourhood. Houses were burning on both sides of the street, lit by spell-fire from their group.

"Exciting, yes," Regulus half-heartedly offered. He tried not to think too closely about the sounds he was hearing, he was sure he could hear screams coming from a few of the burning buildings. "Why are we here again?" he asked.

Bellatrix stopped running and turned on the spot, looking at him with her head cocked. "Aww… is wittle Weggie having second thoughts?"

"Don't talk like that, it's creepy," Regulus said. "I'm not. I just don't see what the reason for us being here is." He waved around for emphasis. "We're supposed to teach a Mudblood a lesson, right? So why are we blowing up all these other houses?"

"Because it's fun, dear cousin!" Bellatrix yelled, followed by a cackling laugh. "Chaos! Fear! The Dark Lord has given us the freedom to do what we want, as long as we show the Mudbloods and blood traitors he cannot be stopped!"

"All hail the Dark Lord," Regulus said, sighing again. He cast a fireball at one of the already burning houses. To his horror, screams came out of the burning second story window.

"I knew you could do it, Weggie poo," Bellatrix cooed next to him.

"Stop calling me that, please," he said. He could feel the bile rising.

x-x-x

Back home, Regulus found himself in his bathroom kneeling over the toilet. He tried to throw up again, but the first two times had already cleared his stomach. Grimacing he stood back up and went to the sink to wash out his mouth. His reflection in the bathroom mirror looked miserable.

"Why didn't I listen to you, Sirius?" he asked the air. Sirius, his big blood traitor brother, would know what to say.

' _Are you happy you are following your desire, Reggie? Being a mindless murderer for a madman?'_ he probably would ask—if he were to talk to his brother at all. Not that he would. Sirius had left home, quite happy to do so. He was now living with the Potters and probably fighting with Dumbledore's people against the Dark Lord. Meanwhile, Regulus had to be a 'mindless murderer'.

x-x-x

That evening Regulus was seated at the dinner table with his parents.

"I heard from my brother that your first outing went well, Regulus," Walburga Black said. They had just finished their meal and Regulus inwardly cursed for not immediately leaving the table. The last thing he wanted was to think about his activities some more.

"Yes, Mother. Cousin Bellatrix was there to keep an eye on me."

"Indeed. She was quite impressed, I hear. You have honoured the house of our fathers, Regulus."

Regulus inclined his head slightly to show he appreciated the praise. "Thank you, Mother. I have to admit, though, seeing her… unrestrained… was a bit unsettling."

Walburga cackled in almost exactly the same way as her niece had, earlier that day. "Bellatrix the Mad! If I had a Knut for every time I heard that—"

"You'd still be poor, dear," Regulus' father, Orion, quipped. Regulus drew in a breath. It may have been a harmless pun, but if his mother took it the wrong way…

"Yes, yes, _Orion_. I am well aware that my side of the family is the _poor_ branch and that you feel you did me a _favour_ by marrying me… but don't forget which of the two of us is the more powerful witch," Walburga said, finishing with a sneer.

"May I be excused?" Regulus asked, not even waiting for the answer as he scrambled out of his seat.

By the time he made his way to the front door he could hear his mother yelling loud enough to rattle the walls.

x-x-x

Regulus hadn't made any plans as he made his way outside, he just wanted to be elsewhere. He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his feet leading him further and further away from Grimmauld Place. Whenever his mother got in one of her moods it was not a good idea to be anywhere close, as she could and would cast random curses. Thinking back on what he saw of Bellatrix earlier that day, Regulus wondered if all Black women were mad. Unfortunately that thought also brought back the memory of burning houses and distant screams… Regulus felt his bile rising up again.

"Are you quite all right, young man?"

Regulus looked up and saw a friendly looking man standing close to him. He was wearing all black—not unlike Regulus himself—except for a rigid, white collar.

"A priest? Oh. Of course. Erm… how do you do?" Regulus asked.

"Quite well, son. Arthur Jenkins, at your service. If you don't mind me saying so, you look troubled."

"I'm Regu—Reggie, Father. Yes, I suppose I am."

"Do you want to talk about it? Here, follow me. I can offer you a cup of tea and listening ear," the priest said, indicating an open door close to them. Regulus nodded and they both went inside.

Soon after he was holding a warm cup of tea, looking down into the liquid.

"How do you know if you've been doing the wrong thing, Father?" Regulus asked after a while.

The priest sipped his own tea and put the cup back down. "That's a good question, Reggie. Usually, my conscience will tell me so. Other times, I will pray for guidance from our Lord. Still other times, I will speak with a fellow priest, or with my Archdeacon or Bishop."

Regulus let it sink in for a bit. "And… if you realize you did?"

"Well, it all depends on what the wrong thing was, Reggie. If I hurt someone, I will apologize and try to make amends."

"Too late for that," Regulus mumbled.

"It's never too late, son. Even if you can't apologize to the person you wronged, you can still ask for forgiveness from God."

"Repent ye sinners, eh?" Regulus said. He meant it sarcastically, but even as he said it, he realized he _wanted_ to repent.

"You don't have to tell me what you did, but if you feel this guilty, Reggie, maybe you should," the priest prompted.

"I… I am not religious, Father. But thank you. You helped me realize I can't go on like this," Regulus said.

"My pleasure, Reggie. And the offer stands. If you ever want to talk, I will always listen."

x-x-x

Regulus left the priest's warm home and slowly started to walk back towards home. "I don't know how, but I'll stop you, 'Dark Lord'," he vowed to himself. "Nobody will die because of me again."

As he neared the cul-de-sac his home was located on, he smiled a little. Perhaps, his brother would be proud of him again in the future.


	4. Inventa et Amissa (F1)

A/N: Written for the QLFC  
Season 5, Finals 1  
Team: Holyhead Harpies  
CHASER 2: Write about someone who visits Knockturn Alley often  
Optional prompts: 2 (dialogue) "I knew you wouldn't be able to see through it." / 4 (word) obsession / 6 (image) art/A-family-of-folded-dragons-24110210

* * *

 _Inventa et Amissa_

Caduceus Nott took a step to the centre of the alley, deftly avoiding the grasping claws of a hag that was hiding in the shadows between _Msaw Ætare_ and a run-down pub. He gave her an angry glare, thinking to himself she was lucky he had an appointment to make or he'd show her what little chance a degenerated creature like her would stand against a pure-blood wizard such as himself.

Putting the hag out of his mind he walked on until he reached his destination, _Moribund's_. The door was locked, of course, but as a regular customer Nott knew the secret. He tapped the doorknob with his wand and the door opened, allowing him to enter. He walked up to the dirty counter and leaned against it as the bell over the door stopped ringing. Besides the various strange oddities on display and a very suspicious box that appeared to be growling, the shop was empty of other people.

x-x-x-x

Nott did not have to wait too long before a man dressed in dirty dark robes entered through a door in the back of the shop.

"Caddy Nott, as I live and breathe. Been a while since you last set foot in my humble establishment. What brings you here, Borgin and Burkes too high class for you?" the man asked in a mocking tone.

"Can it, _Morry_. I got your owl. You have some interesting items for me?"

"I always have what you need, for those that know the entrance fee," Moribund answered cryptically.

Nott rolled his eyes dramatically. "Take a look, Moribund. This should satisfy even _you_." Nott reached in his cloak and pulled a box out of it, one far too large to normally fit beneath the fabric. Expansion charms came standard with the better robes, after all.

Moribund greedily reached for it, but Nott slapped his hands away. "Allow me," he mockingly said as he opened the box top. Four young Kneazle kittens looked up at the two men, mewling for attention.

"They are marvellous… purebreds, I assume?"

"Of course. Straight from the breeder."

Moribund again reached for the box and this time Nott allowed him to take it down from the counter. "I'll be right back, Nott," he said as he started going for the back door with it.

"One day you'll have to explain this obsession of yours with Kneazles, Morry," Nott called after him, but as usual he got no reply. He spent his time waiting for Moribund to return by inspecting some of the items the store owner had out on display, scoffing at the cursed cuff-links and the slave collar that were lying on the counter itself.

x-x-x-x

Moribund returned quickly. "Thanks for waiting. Now, as to what you came for… you notice the box over there?" He indicated the growling box.

"Obviously… wait… you can't mean?" Nott raised an eyebrow.

"Open it up and see for yourself," Moribund said, grinning.

Nott walked over to the box and pulled the cloth covering it off, revealing an empty box.

"What's the deal, Morry?" he turned to ask, only for his attention to get back to the box immediately as somehow it shook and a loud growling sound was heard. Nott jumped back, whipping out his wand and aiming it at the box. "What the—"

"Hah! I knew you wouldn't be able to see through it!" Moribund shouted, looking amused. "Allow me, Caddy." The store owner produced his own wand from somewhere inside his robes and carefully intoned, " _Revelare Occultatum_ ". A yellow light left the tip of his wand, impacting with the empty box. A small flash occurred and Nott's eyes went wide as he saw an amazing sight, four…

"Miniature dragons? How? They are resistant to all shrinking magics!"

"Beautiful, are they not?" Moribund said. "One breeding pair and two cubs."

"Impossible," Nott said, shaking his head. "They're beautiful, but they must be constructs somehow. There's no such thing as a tiny dragon. I bet you just cast the _Draconifors_ spell on those models."

"You mistrust your own eyes?" Moribund challenged him. "Go ahead, cast some detection spells if you like—as long as you do not free them from the cage. It was a bitch getting them locked up in there and I don't want them burning up my shop just because you are a paranoid git."

" _Finite_." Nott aimed his wand at the four dragons and watched a red light impact them, but other than eliciting a growl from the largest of the four, nothing happened.

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," he cast next, getting no result either. " _Abstulere Virtutis!_ " was his next attempt, causing a big red splash to cover all four dragons for a moment. Nott stumbled back, almost dropping his wand.

"What was that last one, Nott? Not quite standard material, was it?" Moribund asked.

"It's from the Durmstrang curriculum. A more potent counter-spell… has its drawbacks, though."

"I see. Well, convinced now?"

"I don't… no… all right, I am. Where did you get these interesting specimens?"

"Hah! If I told you that, you'd have no need for my services any longer. Nice try, Nott. So, do we have a deal?"

"At least give me some information on them. What breed are they? The biggest one looks a little like a Hebridean Black, but the colour is wrong."

"My source called them Lyonessian Reds, but I am sure he just made the name up. Well, do we have a deal, or do I need to see if the Malfoys are interested?"

"I'll take them, I'll take them!"

x-x-x-x

Nott grumbled as he stumbled out of the door, carrying the large box now again covered with cloth. "Bastard Morry, won't even deliver..."

Seeing two pale figures walk towards him he steeled his gaze, trying to indicate he was not so easily cowed by vampires. Knockturn Alley was not generally a safe place to be in, but for someone like Nott who had business there a few times each week, it held few surprises.

Fortunately the vampires passed him without issue, but just as he saw the exit to Diagon Alley and the Apparition area up ahead, an arm reached out from the shadows next to _Msaw Ætare_ and grabbed his leg. Nott cursed as he fell and lost his grip on the box.

To his horror, the box cracked as it landed on the cobblestone street. With a joyous cry, the four tiny dragons escaped the box, flying off before he could get back to his feet. Nott crawled to his feet, whipping out his wand and aiming it at the hag that was still trying to pull on his leg.

"You damned hag! _Inflammare!_ " Angrily he stared after the tiny dragon family as it flew away over the houses and stores of the alley, not even feeling a bit of satisfaction as he burnt the hag alive for costing him his new investment.

x-x-x-x

In a more well-lit street nearby a young girl sat at a small table outside of an ice-cream shop, carefully attempting to balance two cream covered cherries on top of each other, when she looked up and saw the four dragons fly overhead.

"Look, daddy! Atlantean micro-dragons!" she cried out.

"That's nice, moonbeam," Xenophilius Lovegood replied, not looking up. "Do you also see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack anywhere nearby?"

"Don't be silly, daddy. They won't be here, you know they are allergic to ice-cream."

Tiny dragons forgotten, Luna went back to the arduous task of stacking her snack.


	5. Happily Normal (SF)

A/N: Written for the QLFC  
Season 5, semi finals  
Team: Holyhead Harpies  
CHASER 2: A fluffy story using the prompt 'sad' (word) OR an angsty story using the prompt 'happy' (word)  
Optional prompts: 5 (scenario) a deeply religious Muggleborn discovers they're a witch/wizard / 10 (video) watch?time_continue=11&v=LMNkKBin5XI (pan around a house) / 15 (phrase) stabbed in the back

* * *

 _Happily Normal_

"Mum! He's doing it again!" Melissa Cragen's fourteen-year-old's daughter's loud voice disturbed the relative quiet of the Friday afternoon. She looked up and saw the lights flicker and immediately stood up to rush upstairs to her son's room.

"Rob! Stop it!" she yelled as she threw open the door. Her ten-year-old son Rob was sitting in the middle of his bedroom, surrounded by floating books that dropped to the floor the moment his mother rushed into his room.

"Mum, did you see? I actually made them fly!" Rob said, sounding happy. Melissa shuddered for a moment, then walked up to her son and slapped him in the face. Even as he let out a startled cry, she embraced him, holding him tightly.  
"Oh, Rob, why is this happening to you? Come, let's pray together… I don't want to lose you to evil," she said, sobbing now. Together, mother and son kneeled and folded their hands, closing their eyes as they asked for support: "Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..."

Early the next day, Rob had almost managed to forget about his latest 'episode'. He was bored, not for the first time he wished their parents allowed them to have video games like most other kids their age. Not wanting to read a book, he decided to see if his sister was doing something interesting.  
"Chris? You down there?" he called from the top of the stairs leading to the basement/garden floor. Their house was built in a hill, with the 'ground floor' facing the street on one side but what was the basement on the street side lead straight into their large garden on the other side. The family bedrooms were all on the top floor, but since the past year or so his sister Christine had more or less moved into the lower floor instead.  
Getting no answer, Rob descended the stairs and went into his Chris's domain. Or rather, the 'family game room', as their father called it. His eyes went wide when he saw Chris lying down on the couch and taking a drag from a cigarette.  
"Chris! You're not allowed to smoke!"

His sister scrambled to her feet, looking panicked, then let out a sigh of relief when she saw Rob was alone. "Man, you almost gave me a heart-attack, Robbie..."

"Don't call me that," Rob complained. "And you're breaking the rules! I'm telling mum and dad!"

Chris's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare, Robbie! Who do you think they'll believe if you tell them? Their good Christian daughter, or the little demon who stabbed them in the back by playing with witchcraft?"

"I'm not a witch!" Rob cried out.

"You're a devil worshipper! I hope you rot in hell," his sister spat out. Rob ran away crying.

x-x-x-x-x

"I just don't know what to do," Melissa said to her husband Paul. "It's still our Rob, but you know what the Good Book says..."  
"'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,'" Paul quoted after a brief pause. "Mel, you can't mean—"  
"Of course not!" she interrupted him. "But… maybe we should talk to Father Morris tomorrow? He might know what to do?"

"Like what? An exorcism? Honey, those things don't happen any longer."

"I know! But what else can we do? He's got an evil spirit in him, how else can you explain the… things he can do?"

Both were quiet for a while, then Paul started: "Maybe we can—"

This time, he was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. "Are we expecting someone, dear?" he asked.

"No, but maybe it's the post?"

The husband and wife pair walked to the front door and opened it to find a tall, black-haired woman standing there in a rather odd green dress. She looked very strict and professional and stood there with pursed lips as she waited for the door to open.

"Hello, can we help you?" Paul asked, looking at his wife to his side as if to ask her if she had any idea who this woman could be.  
"Ah, hello. My name is Professor McGonagall. I'd like to speak with you about son, Robert, if I may?"

"Our Rob? Did he do something?" Melissa asked.

"Oh, certainly not. He's not in trouble, I'm actually here about an opportunity for him," the woman answered her.  
Husband and wife shared another look, then Paul opened the door further and Melissa stepped aside. "Please, come in. May I take your coat?" Paul asked.  
"Yes, thank you," Professor McGonagall said. A part of Paul noticed she was very graceful for a woman of her age, almost cat-like fluidity in her movements as she shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. He idly noticed it was covered in a tartan pattern.  
"This way, please," he said, leading her to the sitting room. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Just water, thank you," she answered.

x-x-x-x-x

A bit later the Cragens were sitting there, waiting for their visitor to start speaking.

"As I said, my name is Professor McGonagall. I represent a special school that seeks out specifically selected students from Great Britain and Ireland, and your son Robert has come up in our prospective student roster."

"That's the first we hear of it," Paul said after a moment. "Did St. Michael's, his primary school, arrange this?"

"No, we have our own selection methods," Professor McGonagall said. "Would you mind if we asked Robert to join us?"  
"Not just yet," Paul said. "I'd like to know more about what this school of yours is about first, Professor."

"Very well. I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts, which as I mentioned is a special boarding school, located in northern Scotland. We offer secondary education for ages eleven to seventeen, and our alumni almost universally go on to hold high positions in business or government."

"Sounds good so far, although I must say I've never heard of 'Hogwarts' before. Is it customary for the Headmistress to go on these kinds of visits?" Melissa asked.

"The existence of Hogwarts is a closely guarded secret, and I take some joy into meeting my future students first-hand each summer," Professor McGonagall said, her expression softening slightly.

"All right, so why is Rob one of your possible future students? Our son isn't exactly the top of his class," Paul asked.

"Paul!" Melissa hissed

Professor McGonagall ignored Melissa, saying, "We take in students with special talents. Tell me, have you noticed anything unusual occurring young Robert lately?"

Both Cragens gasped at the same time, then Melissa's look turned afraid while Robert started to look angry.  
"I see you have," Professor McGonagall continued as neither parent said something. "The full name of the school I represent is _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ , and we teach, well, magic."

Paul clenched his hands around the arm rests of his chair. "If this is some kind of joke..."

"I assure you, it is not," Professor McGonagall said. "I am a witch, and your son, Robert, is a wizard."

"We are a good Christian family! I'd like you to remove yourself from my property, now!" Paul said in a louder tone, rising from his chair.  
"Please, Mr. Cragen, there is no reason to be angry," Professor McGonagall said.

"Exodus twenty-two verse eighteen!" Melissa called out, reaching for a black book lying on the side table next to her. "'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!'"

"I am familiar with the Bible, Mrs. Cragen," Professor McGonagall said, still sitting there with her hands folder on her lap. "Witchcraft, wizardry, _magic_ is not related to demonic possession despite what… some books say. It is a perfectly natural part of our world and—"

"I asked you to leave our home, and I'll ask you again," Paul said, standing on the other side of the low table that separated him from the strange woman. "I am not a violent man, but I _will_ protect my family from evil."

"Mr. Cragen, Mrs. Cragen, I see I made the wrong impression," Professor McGonagall said, sounding a bit sad. "Please, it is very important for young Robert to learn to know how to properly use his magic. If he is untrained, or learns to fear his own talents, the results could be very bad for not just himself, but you, too."

"But we don't want him to have magic!" Melissa pleaded. "Please, can't you just take it away?"

"Well, in some rare cases we can bind a child's magic so it doesn't become a problem, but that is—"

"Bind it? And this will not hurt Rob in any way?" Paul interjected.

"Not hurt him, no, but it will mean he cannot use his talents… and there is no way to undo it, once it's been bound."

"Do that, then!" Paul asked.

"But… Mr. and Mrs. Cragen, are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Melissa said, Paul nodding next to her.

"I… I need to think about this, I need to speak to someone from the Ministry… is it all right if I ask someone else to come by, later today?"  
"Of course," Paul said.

As quickly as she had arrived, the witch left.

"I knew you were possessed," Chris hissed to her brother next to her. They were sitting on the middle of the stairs leading to the top floor, out of sight of the sitting room and entrance hallway.

"But she can fix me! I'll be normal again, Chrissy."

"Thank God," Chris said softly, then she hugged him.

x-x-x-x-x

Three hours later the doorbell was rung again, this time by a young adult man in his mid-twenties. He had black, messy hair and wore round glasses. The most distinguishing feature Paul noticed on him as he opened the door was a faded scar on the man's forehead, looking slightly like a lightning bolt.

"Mr. Cragen? I'm Auror Harry Potter," the man said. "Professor McGonagall told me about her visit to you and I would like a chance to speak with you, your wife, and young Robert."

"How do you do," Mr. Potter said, extending his hand. Reluctantly, Paul shook it.

"Auror Potter was it? What, exactly, is an Auror?"

"It's a position in our community's department of law enforcement. Think of a mixture between your regular street bobby and a Scotland Yard detective," Mr. Potter said, grinning. Then, more serious, "I am also one of the few people licensed to bind people's magic, if need be."

Paul lead the two inside, and for a few minutes they mostly repeated the same things they had talked about with Professor McGonagall earlier.

"I understand you, really I do," Mr. Potter said. "I grew up not knowing about magic, either. My relatives had no great love of it either, albeit not for religious reasons… I can say, though, that going to Hogwarts really changed my life for the better. I am really hesitant to take this chance away from Rob, without hearing his own opinion first."

" _If_ I allow you to speak with Rob, and _if_ Rob decides to give this Hogwarts a chance, and _if_ I don't feel you are tricking my son, we'll consider allowing him to… try," Paul said after a moment to think.

"I can take an oath that I will not try to trick you or your son, if that will make you feel better?" Mr. Potter offered.

"Paul, let him," Melissa prompted. "Even if he is a… witch… he looks honest."

"A wizard, ma'am," Mr. Potter corrected her. "And thank you."

x-x-x-x-x

Rob looked hesitant as he went downstairs, his parents having called him. Mr. Potter explained about Hogwarts and magic to him, and Rob just said there taking it all in. Chris had followed him downstairs and was sitting with her parents now, all taking in Mr. Potter's explanation with silence (despite all of them having heard it before by now).

"Rob, I can understand you're afraid," Mr. Potter said. "I was, too, the first times I did accidental magic. Why, when I was about your age, I made the glass of a snake enclosure disappear at the London Zoo!"

"Really?" Rob asked, his eyes wide. "I… I make stuff float. And sometimes, when I'm afraid or angry, I make all the lights go out."

"That's magic, Rob. If you go to Hogwarts, you'll learn how to control it and that there is no reason to be afraid of it."

Rob was silent for a while, fidgeting with his hands. "I don't want it, though. It is evil..."

"Magic isn't good, or evil, Rob. It just is. I won't lie to you, some people do evil things with magic — that's why I have a job, I catch those that do. Most of us lead good lives, helping others with our magical powers."

Rob was quiet for a long while, then spoke: "The Apostle Paul and his friend Silas met a witch in Philippi. She helped her employers get rich by fortune telling, but Paul knew she was doing evil and used the power of Jesus Christ to drive the demon out of her. I don't want to have a demon in me, even if it seems to be doing good. I want to be one of Jesus' people."

Mr. Potter took of his glasses and polished them before putting them back on, letting out a sigh. "I promised your parents I'd listen to you, Rob. So I'll ask you one more time: will you be happy, if I take away your magic? Knowing that you cannot change your mind later on?"

Rob looked directly at Mr. Potter, nodding. "Yes, sir. I will be happy."

"So be it," Mr. Potter said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. So, a magical bonding, four _Confunduses_ , and four _Oblivitates_ … I hate the paperwork already."

The Cragens had no chance to reply before Mr. Potter stood up and produced a polished stick from somewhere, then he waved it in their direction and said something in a foreign language. Next, they knew nothing any longer.

x-x-x-x-x

Paul blinked twice, taking in the scene in front of him. He was sitting in his own home, his wife sitting next to him, and their kids sitting on chairs on the other side of the small table.

"What did you just say, Rob?" he asked.

Rob rolled his eyes. "Daaaad! I was asking about Bible Camp, this summer. Jimmy and Mark are both going, can I go too?"

Paul grinned. "Well, that depends on what Father Morris has to say about your behaviour in church tomorrow, doesn't it?"

None of the four noticed a young man walking away from their property, looking oddly sad as he left a happy family behind.


End file.
